Three's a Crowd, Four's an Army
by Air Force Muffin
Summary: A twist in the course of events on the night of Lord Voldemort's return changes Harry Potter's destiny. Follow him as he forges a new path full of danger, adventure, mystery, and somewhere down the road, love. Voldemort has a lot more to deal with than just Harry Potter now, because Harry is one of The Four Champions. And they're going to fight like never before.
1. Chapter 1

_Introduction: This HP story was inspired by a post I saw on Tumblr. What if Cedric wasn't killed in the fourth book? What if he lived? What if the four Tri-wizard tournament champions formed an alliance? This fic will attempt to answer that question. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you __**Three's a Crowd, Four's an Army.**_

Chapter One

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HARRY POTTER FRANCHISE.**

**A/N: I take no responsibility for any phrases lifted from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in this chapter.**

The whirl of colors abruptly stopped, and Harry crashed into the ground, grimacing as pain shot through his injured leg. He raised his head and looked around. The portkey had taken them to a dark graveyard. To their right was a large grove of trees. On the left was a road leading away and up a hill, and in the distance, Harry could just make out a manor. They were nowhere near Hogwarts, that was for sure. The landscape was completely unfamiliar.

"Where are we?" Harry asked.

Cedric shrugged. "I have no idea," he said. After a second, he added, "Wands out, maybe?"

Harry took out his wand as Cedric helped him to his feet, and the two of them stood back-to-back, scanning the area. There was a feeling of malevolence in the air, as if a being of great evil was nearby. Harry had a sudden eerie feeling that he was being watched.

"Someone's coming," he said impulsively. As if on cue, a cloaked, hunched figure came slowly out of the darkness of the graveyard. He felt Cedric tense against his back.

The unknown person approached Harry and Cedric, cradling what looked like a bundle of rags.

"Who are you?" Cedric asked fiercely. When no answer came, he raised his wand. "What do you want with us?"

Harry briefly looked down at the bundle of rags, and suddenly a violent pain exploded in his scar, worse than anything he had ever felt before. He sank to the ground in a daze of pain, his wand slipping from his hand.

Then, from the bundle of rags, came a rasping voice.

_"Kill the spare."_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ This voice was high and squeaky, and must have come from the cloaked figure, as Harry saw a wand slash through the air. He had heard that voice somewhere before.

Through eyes squinted with pain, Harry saw a green flash of light, and next to him, a gasp followed by the sound of robes billowing out, and a body hitting the ground.

"No…"

The pain in Harry's scar reached new levels, and for a moment, all he could do was retch helplessly. When the pain finally diminished somewhat, he opened his eyes, fearing what he would see. Cedric was lying prostrate on the ground, his robes thrown over his body and obstructing his face. But the lack of movement told Harry all he needed to know.

Cedric was dead.

Harry stared dumbfoundedly at Cedric's body, refusing to believe the evidence before him. Then he was being pulled up by Cedric's killer and dragged towards the graveyard. With a thud, Harry was thrown roughly against a marble headstone. Twisting his head, Harry made out a name on the gravestone.

**TOM RIDDLE**

Now the cloaked figure was conjuring ropes and tying Harry to the grave with them. Harry struggled, shoving his head into the figure's chest. His hood fell, revealing a familiar ratlike face.

Wormtail.

"You!" Harry gasped, struggling violently against the ropes, but to no avail. Wormtail didn't reply, instead conjuring more ropes around Harry. When the ropes were so tightly bound around Harry that he couldn't move, Wormtail stuffed a black cloth in Harry's mouth and hurried off into the darkness. Harry took the opportunity to look around. The bundle of rags was lying nearby on the ground- except that it wasn't a bundle of rags. There was something stirring inside them, and whatever that thing was, it was causing the pain in his scar to flare up again. Harry looked away. Further behind the bundle of rags was the Triwizard cup that had brought them there, and Cedric's sprawled body. Wormtail was coming back now, dragging a huge stone cauldron with him. He set the cauldron down next to the grave and waved his wand, filling the cauldron with what seemed to be water. Next, Wormtail lit a fire under the cauldron. The liquid bubbled and then boiled, sending sparks shooting out of the cauldron.

That wasn't ordinary water, Harry decided.

Then Wormtail moved to pick up the thing on the ground, pulling away the rags as he did so. What Harry saw terrified him. It looked vaguely like a human baby, but no human baby had dark, reddish skin, tiny, sticklike limbs, a snakelike face, or gleaming red eyes. It seemed like an alien. Fear flooded Harry's body in a torrent, electrifying him. He pulled against the ropes as hard as he could, but there was no give in them. Wormtail lifted the creature up with a look of utter revulsion on his face, carried it to the cauldron, and dumped it in.

_Please let it drown, _Harry thought. _Drown..please drown…_ The pain in his scar was once again building to new heights of agony.

Wormtail closed his eyes and spoke shakily, raising his wand. "_Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"_

The ground at the foot of the grave cracked, and a fine cloud of dust trickled out of it, and at Wormtail's direction, fell into the cauldron. The liquid hissed ferociously, sending out a storm of sparks and turning a nauseous shade of blue. Whimpering, Wormtail drew a dagger out of his cloak.

_"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you w-will revive your m-master,"_ he intoned haltingly.

He laid his right hand out and raised the knife with his left hand.

As Wormtail closed his eyes, Harry realized what was about to happen and squeezed his eyes shut. But lack of sight could not block out Wormtail's raw, ear-piercing scream, or the sound of something falling to the ground. Then there was a _splash_, as if something had been dropped into the cauldron. When Harry opened his eyes again, the cauldron's contents were now shimmering an evil red. Now Wormtail was approaching him, gasping in agony and clutching the silver dagger.

_"Bl-blood of t-the enemy- forcibly taken- y-you w-will resurrect your foe,"_ he whispered.

As Wormtail grabbed Harry's arm, it dawned on Harry exactly what was about to happen. But he could do nothing, nothing at all. The ropes allowed no movement, no struggle. He gritted his teeth as the dagger pierced his skin, making a long, thin cut. As blood seeped out, Wormtail fumbled with his pockets, pulling out a small glass vial to catch the blood as it dripped out. When he had a sufficient amount, he stood up and staggered back to the cauldron, dumping the blood inside. Then he collapsed to the ground, sobbing quietly. Harry could only watch in fear as the cauldron simmered, tossing fierce sparks outward and lighting up the night with a brilliant light. Suddenly, the sparks stopped, and a massive column of steam rose out, obscuring every part of the graveyard, and hiding Cedric and Wormtail and the cauldron, so all that Harry could see was the swirling white vapor in front of him.

_Did it go wrong?_ He wondered, squinting into the mist. But it had not gone wrong. That became clear as the dark outline of a man, tall and thin, rose slowly out of the mouth of the cauldron.

"Robe me," the figure said, in a high, cold voice.

Wormtail, still moaning and sobbing, grabbed the black robes from the floor and pulled them over the head of the man in the cauldron. The now black-robed man stepped out of the cauldron, looking carefully at Harry. Harry looked back at the reptilian face that had haunted his nightmares for three years. The face was smoother than polished marble and whiter than snow, with two slits for nostrils where his nose would have been, and livid crimson eyes.

Lord Voldemort had returned.

Now he turned away from Harry, scrutinizing his own body. He ran his pale, spidery hands over his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, and his face, feeling every inch of his skin. Wormtail, lying nearby, crying and cradling his bleeding stump of an arm, and the giant snake, which had returned and was circling Harry again, and Harry himself, seemed to be of no matter to Voldemort at the moment. For now, he was preoccupied with his new body. He reached into a pocket of his robes and drew out a wand, and held it with the same reverence that he had when he had explored his new body. Then he raised the wand and pointed it at Wormtail, who was jerked into the air and thrown into the headstone that Harry was bound to, and lay there, sobbing and twitching. Lord Voldemort threw his head back and laughed- an unnatural, cold, and humorless laugh, a murderer's laugh.

"My Lord," Wormtail gasped, "Please… you promised…"

"Hold out your arm," Voldemort said carelessly.

"Oh, master.., thank you…" Wormtail held out the bleeding stump, but Voldemort shook his head.

"The other, Wormtail." He bent down and pulled on Wormtail's other arm, dragging the sleeve up, revealing a magical tattoo of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth- the image that had appeared during the Quidditch World Cup. The Dark Mark. Voldemort pressed it with his forefinger, and Harry's scar seared with fresh pain, as Wormtail doubled over, crying even harder. Voldemort straightened up and surveyed the graveyard.

"How many will come when they feel it?" he mused. "And how many fools will ignore it and seal their deaths?"

Thunder rumbled faintly, followed by a distant lightning flash. A storm was gathering on the horizon. Voldemort paid no attention to it as he paced the graveyard for a minute, saying nothing. The only noise came from Wormtail, as he clutched his wound and whimpered. Eventually, Voldemort stopped pacing. His eyes fell on Harry.

"Harry Potter. You are upon the remains of my late father. A muggle fool. But his bones gave me new life… so he was not without his uses." He gestured to the manor in the distance. "You see that house, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a pureblooded witch, fell in love with her, but my father abandoned her when he heard what she was. He didn't like witches, my father."

Voldemort trailed off and started pacing slowly again. "Listen to me, reliving family history. Why, I am becoming sentimental. But look, Harry Potter. My _real_ family approaches."

All around the graveyard, the air came alive with the sound of swishing cloaks as hooded, masked wizards apparated in. They approached cautiously, as if not believing the sight in front of them. Voldemort stood regally in the middle of the graveyard, awaiting their action. Then one of them rushed forward, fell to his knees, crawled to Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his robes.

"Master… Master…" he murmured, backing away.

The rest of the Death Eaters followed suit, each kissing Voldemort's robes before backing away and standing up, forming a circle, albeit with some gaps.

Voldemort looked around. "Welcome, Death Eaters," he said quietly. "It has been thirteen years since we have last met. And yet we are still together under the Dark Mark. _Or are we?_" He sniffed the air. "I smell guilt. A stench of guilt." He took a step towards several Death Eaters, all of whom flinched. "I see healthy, respectable wizards, who immediately answered my call. I ask you, why did you not come to my aid earlier?"

No one spoke.

"Perhaps," Voldemort began, "They thought me truly dead. They thought that I was gone; so they returned to my enemies, pleading ignorance and bewitchment. And I ask, how did they think that I, Lord Voldemort, one so powerful who has taken so many steps towards immortality, could possibly think that I was dead?" He held out his hands, as if beseeching an answer. No one came forward.

"I think," Voldemort whispered dangerously, "That I am disappointed… Very disappointed."

Thunder rumbled again, much closer this time. Some Death Eaters stirred, but Voldemort did not bat an eye.

"The weather shares my disappointment in you, I see," he remarked lazily. "You will ask for forgiveness, I am sure of it. But Lord Voldemort does not forgive. He does not forget. You must repay your debts. Wormtail here has already repaid some, has he not?" Voldemort looked down at Wormtail's sobbing form. "You returned not out of loyalty, but fear, Wormtail. You deserve this pain, do you not?"

"Yes, Master… of course I do… please… please…"

"But you helped me, Wormtail. You returned me to a body, and worthless as you are, Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers." Voldemort raised his wand and twirled it. A streak of molten silver came pouring out of the tip, and formed itself into a hand, which flew down and merged seamlessly with Wormtail's bleeding stump. Wormtail's crying stopped as he looked in wonder at the silvery hand attached to him. He flexed it in wonder.

"Thank you, My Lord… It is truly wonderful."

"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail," Voldemort said in a low tone, as Wormtail kissed his robes and scrambled over to the circle. Voldemort approached the man on Wormtail's right. "Lucius, my friend… The Imperius curse, you said. A respectable face you show, but the word is that you still follow the old ways."

Lucius said nothing, but nodded stiffly.

"Do try to be more faithful in my service, Lucius. It will benefit your wellbeing."

"Yes, My Lord," Lucius replied stiffly.

Voldemort moved on to the gap between Lucius Malfoy and the next Death Eater. "Here the Lestranges should be, but they are in Azkaban. When we break out, they will be honored for their refusal to renounce me… unlike some others.." As he said this, he stopped in front of a Death Eater, who flinched. "Avery, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott… All of you have renounced me a little bit too energetically. I expect much better in the future."

The Death Eaters that he had spoken to nodded. Voldemort came to a stop in front of a large gap.

"And here… six missing Death Eaters. Of which, three are dead, one is too cowardly to return, and one who I believe has left me forever… he will die of course, and one who is my most faithful servant and is already back in my service at Hogwarts. He, in fact, is the one who brought me Harry Potter tonight."

The Death Eaters took notice of Harry for the first time, and a murmur swept through the crowd.

"Yes, Harry Potter is among us tonight," Voldemort said, malicious humor creeping into his voice. "Away from Dumbledore and his wand, the _boy-who-lived_ is completely powerless. I am here to kill him tonight, to prove my power over him once and for all."

Another murmur swept through the crowd, which was cut off abruptly when Voldemort raised his wand. "Now, Harry Potter, you will-"

**BRRRROOOOMMMMMM!**

A massive blast of thunder echoed through the valley, followed by a blinding flash and a scream as a Death Eater was brought down by a bolt of lightning. A large, menacing black thundercloud hung directly above the graveyard now. Sheets of rain poured down from as another clap of thunder shook Harry's ears. He watched in shock as another blast of lightning brought down another Death Eater.

"What is this? _What is this?_" Voldemort screamed, raising his wand. "WHAT IS THIS!?"

Before he could make a movement of any kind, a beam of red light smashed into the back of his head with a small explosion, knocking him facedown into the ground, where he laid unmoving, bleeding from a deep cut in the back of his head. The Death Eaters were thrown into chaos, firing curses at random and running wildly for cover. Out of nowhere, Harry felt a well-placed cutting curse scythe through his ropes, freeing him. He gingerly stretched his sore arms and crawled behind the gravestone, ducking out of the way of a lethal-looking black curse. The rain was pounding the graveyard now, coming down so hard that Harry could only see the blurry shapes of the Death Eaters as they scrambled around in a blind panic. Then, from the left, he saw a figure running straight towards him- a figure wearing familiar-looking yellow and black robes.

Cedric Diggory appeared out of the rain, clutching two wands and panting, and slid to a halt in front of him. "Harry!" He gasped. "We have to run! I don't know how long I can keep up this storm!"

Harry goggled at Cedric. "What- how- you're alive-"

"No time for questions!" Cedric hissed. He tossed Harry a wand. "Take this. Shoot at anything that moves. Now follow me!" He jumped up and ran into the rain, firing a string of curses as he went. The rain was letting up now, and the thunder and lightning had stopped.

Without hesitation, Harry followed in his path, firing _impedimenta'_s and stunners indiscriminately, and more than once, was rewarded with the sound of a yell and a thump of a body hitting the ground.

Then, from behind them, came a voice that struck terror in Harry's heart:

"STOP THEM! THEY ARE MINE!"

Voldemort was conscious again. Cedric ducked behind a gravestone, and Harry followed suit as a volley of deadly green curses hummed over them, missing only by inches.

"NO! DO NOT KILL POTTER! HE IS MINE!" Voldemort bellowed.

Harry peeked out from behind the gravestone and saw Voldemort's blurred form stalking through the rain towards them, his wand raised, and cool evil radiating from his form.

"Grab my hand!" Cedric yelled, raising his wand. As soon as Harry took it, Cedric pointed his wand at the Triwizard cup and roared _"ACCIO!"_

The cup came flying through the air towards them as Voldemort appeared in front of them, and the last thing that Harry heard before the portkey activated was Voldemort's scream of pure rage.

Then the world was a swirling mass of colors as he and Cedric returned to Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE HARRY POTTER FRANCHISE.**

Harry slammed facedown into the ground as the world righted itself around him. For several seconds, he was too woozy to move or speak, and could only concentrate on breathing and staying conscious. If his concentration lapsed for even a second, he was sure that he would go under. Then he felt Cedric stirring next to him.

"You all right, Harry?"

When Harry didn't reply, he heard a hesitant charm: "_R-rennervate."_ Suddenly, energy flooded through Harry's system, freeing him to move. He rolled over and sat up slowly.

"Ugh… You all right, Cedric?"

Cedric definitely wasn't all right. His face was deathly pale and he was shaking all over. As Harry sat up, he croaked out two words:

"M-magical drain…"

And then he keeled over and landed on the ground, unconscious.

"_Cedric!"_ Harry knelt over him. Was he dead? No, there was a heartbeat, he was breathing, he was just unconscious. Harry stood up shakily and immediately fell back down again as his legs refused to cooperate. He could feel Cedric's rennervation charm wearing off fast. He was lying faceup on the ground now, his eyes fixed on the stars. Voldemort was back. He needed to do something, like get up, or get help, but he could barely stay awake. In fact, the grass under him felt so nice and soft, almost like a pillow. Really, it wasn't a bad place for a nap…

"Harry! _Harry!"_ Somebody seized his arms, and a face came into Harry's vision- Dumbledore was bending over him. For the first time, Harry became aware of the crowd surrounding them. A cacophony of noise was all around him, and his scar still burned with pain- it was all almost too much to bear.

Another face crossed into Harry's field of vision- Cornelius Fudge was there now, his face ghost-white.

"My God- Diggory!" Fudge whispered. "Dumbledore- Is he dead?"

"No, Cornelius," Dumbledore's controlled reply came, "He is alive."

"Thank God!" Fudge exclaimed. "But, Harry-"

" 'm fine," Harry mumbled. "Professor… Professor…"

"What is it, Harry?" The Headmaster asked. "What happened?"

"Voldemort… He's- he's back. Voldemort is back." Harry could barely get the words out. The world was swimming before his eyes now.

"Dumbledore, we need to get them to the hospital wing! Harry- Diggory- they need help quickly!" Fudge was panicking now.

"Stay calm, Cornelius. Neither student seems to be in grave danger right now. Harry, can you stand up?"

"Think so," Harry muttered. He felt hands pulling him onto his feet and supporting him. All around him, voices were pressing in- "What happened?" "Is Diggory _dead?_" "Is he okay?"

"I'll take Harry to the hospital wing, Dumbledore."

"No, I would rather that he stayed here, Alastor. He needs a stretcher."

"Are you sure, Dumbledore? Harry looks like he's in a bad way. He needs help as soon as possible after what happened in the graveyard-"

Harry froze. Next to him, Dumbledore slowly turned to face Moody.

"What graveyard, Alastor? And how would you know where Harry has been?"

Through bleary eyes, Harry saw Moody go still, and then, in a blur of motion, draw his wand, aim at Harry, and yell a curse: "_Avada Kedavra!"_

Then a hand knocked him to the ground, the curse sailed over him, a scream went up, and Dumbledore was casting a spell, several more jets of light flew above him, and then there was a brilliant red light and a _boom_, followed by a yell, and a _thump,_ and then, miraculously, everything went quiet. But only for a moment. The pandemonium that immediately followed strained Harry's ears painfully. Harry so badly wanted for it to be over.

"Take them to the hospital wing, Minerva. I need to deal with Alastor's impostor."

"Albus, are you sure-?"

"This is not Alastor Moody, Minerva. I am sure of that."

"Very well, Albus. Come on, Harry. Let's get you inside."

Someone was gently moving Harry along through the crowd. He could hear the noise starting to fade. "What-?"

"Shhh, Harry. You'll be fine. Just keep moving. We're almost to the castle."

Harry recognized the voice as McGonagall's. "Whr's Cedric?" he mumbled.

Her voice became tense. "I don't know, Harry."

He heard a door opening, and then they were walking across a stone floor and up several flights of stairs. Another door was opened, and then they were in a brightly lit room, and he was being helped into a bed. Harry's eyes were starting to droop as he leaned back into the pillow under him.

He was jerked roughly from his daze when someone burst into the room. He wrenched open his eyes and saw Madam Pomfrey levitating a stretcher into the room with Cedric's body on it, as Professor Sprout followed behind.

"- severe magical exhaustion," Madam Pomfrey was saying to Professor Sprout, "He'll be unconscious for at least a day while his magical core recovers from the drain. There's not much else I can do except let his magic naturally recover." Cedric's stretcher was set down across from Harry's bed. Madam Pomfrey turned her attention to Harry.

"Mr. Potter! How do you feel?" she asked.

"Tired," Harry mumbled, letting his eyes droop down again.

"I should think so! You look like death warmed over! What happened?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but he found that he simply couldn't muster the energy to make words. In fact, he was finding it very hard to keep himself awake. He couldn't take it anymore. All he had to do was relax. Which he did.

"Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey's voice sounded like it was coming from a different dimension. Harry didn't answer. He couldn't do anything except embrace the darkness that was rushing around him. Harry's vision went dark.

When Harry opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was the concerned face of Albus Dumbledore in front of him, and a mysterious cloaked figure next to him. When the headmaster saw that Harry was awake, his face brightened.

"Harry, my boy, you're awake. How are you feeling?" he asked.

Harry sat up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "I feel okay," he admitted. "What happened?"

"I was going to ask the same to you," Dumbledore said. "Where did that portkey take you?"

Fear seized Harry as the memories of the graveyard came rushing back. "Professor- Voldemort- he's back. We need to-"

The headmaster held up his hand. "I am aware of the fact that Voldemort is back."

Harry stared at Dumbledore. "How did you-?"

"That is my side of the story, which you will learn shortly. But first, I need to know what happened to you and Mr. DIggory."

Harry nodded and was about to start telling the story when Dumbledore stopped him. "I almost forgot, Harry," he said. "You have a visitor." He turned to the cloaked figure next to him, who lowered his hood, revealing a familiar mischievous face- Sirius.

"Sirius!" Harry said happily, embracing his godfather.

"Hello, Harry," Sirius said, reaching forward and hugging Harry. "I came immediately when I heard you were hurt. How are you?"

"I've been better," Harry quipped, patting Sirius on the back.

"Now," Sirius said, sitting back, "What on earth happened?"

"That's the question we all have, Sirius," Dumbledore said. "Harry, if you wouldn't mind enlightening us…"

And Harry did. He told Dumbledore and Sirius every detail of the course of events in the graveyard. He told them about the portkey, and Cedric seemingly being struck down, and then Wormtail tying him up and performing the ritual to bring Voldemort back, and then the Death Eaters arriving, and Cedric's ambush, and then their escape back to Hogwarts. During the story, Sirius occasionally let out noises of anguish, and when Harry got to the part about Wormtail cutting him, Sirius let out a positively canine growl. Dumbledore remained attentive and thoughtful through the entire story but said nothing. When Harry reached the end, Dumbledore sat back and looked contemplatively up before appearing to reach a decision and looking back towards Harry.

"And now I shall tell you my side of the story, Harry. It begins with the moment when Alastor Moody's impostor cast the killing curse at you."

"An impostor?" Harry asked.

"It was an impostor, as you'll see later. Anyway, I immediately Stunned the impostor and took him inside the castle for questioning. I was also waiting for the Polyjuice potion that he was using to wear off."

"Polyjuice?"

"Think of that hip flask that the impostor always wore, Harry. Did you notice how he only drank from that, and always upon the hour, every hour?"

"Hey- that's right," Harry said in dawning realization.

"When the Polyjuce potion wore off, the impostor was revealed to be Barty Crouch Junior," Dumbledore continued.

"Crouch's son?! But I thought he was dead!"

"So did I," Dumbledore said wearily. "But I was wrong. We administered Veritaserum to him, and he told us a number of things. Barty Crouch Junior survived because of his mother, who used Polyjuice to switch places with him as Barty went into Azkaban. Then the senior Crouch hid his son for years using the Imperius curse. Only one person figured out the ruse: Bertha Jorkins. Crouch Senior put a powerful memory charm on her."

Harry nodded. "But how did he get into Hogwarts if he was under the Imperius curse?"

"The rest of the story starts at the Quidditch World Cup. Crouch's house-elf, Winky, talked Crouch into bringing his son to the World Cup. But Barty was growing stronger and beginning to throw off the Imperius. At the World Cup, he stole your wand, Harry."

"So that's where my wand went!"

"Yes, that is correct. Anyway, Barty Junior used used your wand to cast the Dark Mark into the sky to scare off the Death Eaters.

"But why would he want to scare off the Death Eaters?" Harry asked.

"He felt that they were not truly loyal, and wanted to punish them for that," Dumbledore explained. "When Crouch Senior found out that his son had done that, he reapplied the Imperius curse and dismissed Winky, as you remember. Later, Wormtail and Voldemort came to the Crouches' house, after they had heard that Crouch Junior was still alive. Voldemort knew this because he had captured Bertha Jorkins."

"I see," Harry said.

"Now Crouch Senior was under the Imperius curse and being held in his own house. But he began to fight the curse as well, and he escaped, and went to Hogwarts, where you found him, Harry. Barty Crouch, still disguised as Moody, saw his father arriving on the grounds with your special map, Harry."

"Hey- my map! Professor Mood- er, Crouch, still has it! Where is it?"

Dumbledore smiled and reached into his robes, pulling out a roll of parchment. "Is this it?"

Harry eagerly took the map, unrolled it, tapped it with his wand, and whispered, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._" To his delight, the familiar logo of Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs appeared.

"Is it working?" Dumbledore asked.

"Perfectly," Harry said. "But, Headmaster, what else- how did Crouch get me into the Triwizard Tournament?"

"The answer is fairly simple. Crouch used a _confundus_ curse on the Goblet of Fire to make it think that there was a fourth school that you had entered as. He was also responsible for creating the portkey that took you away."

"Okay. But-"

Harry's question was cut off abruptly by the sound of a loud, boisterous argument approaching the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, scowling. "Honestly!" she said. "Is quiet in the hospital wing too much to ask?"

As the sounds of arguing grew closer, Dumbledore stood up and waved his wand over Sirius, causing him to vanish, as the door to the hospital wing was thrown open, and Professor McGonagall and Cornelius Fudge came in, with McGonagall in a blistering rage.

"-an abomination!" McGonagall was roaring as they came in.

"Calm yourself, woman!" Fudge said. "He's good as dead now!"

"Albus!" McGonagall shrieked. Her face was bright red, her eyes flashing dangerously, and her fists were clenched at her sides. Harry had never seen her look or act so angry.

"Albus, I took Cornelius to see the prisoner, like you asked, but he _insisted_ on taking a Dementor with him, and as soon as that _thing_ saw Crouch Junior, it just swooped down on him and- and-"

Harry fought down a wave of revulsion at what McGonagall's words entailed. Crouch had just suffered the worst possible fate- The Dementor's Kiss.

Dumbledore stood up. "Cornelius, why would you bring the Dementor's Kiss upon someone who could have given us valuable information?"

Fudge snorted. "Valuable information? That man was obviously insane, and I feared for my safety. What I did was perfectly rational! Why, that man believed that he was taking instructions from You-Know-Who himself!"

Harry looked quickly at Dumbledore, whose expression did not change. "Cornelius," he said quietly, "Barty Crouch Junior was not delusional. Voldemort is back."

For the briefest of moments, all color drained from Fudge's face, as a look of real fear appeared. But as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared, and he straightened up defiantly.

"Now see here, Dumbledore! I don't know what you are up to here, but You-Know-Who is most certainly dead!"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth in outrage, but Dumbledore spoke first. "Cornelius, Voldemort is alive and well, and we both know it. Did I not show you the Dark Mark on Severus' arm that is fully restored?"

"And I tell you that that is meaningless!" Fudge replied. "A mere tattoo cannot prove that he has returned!"

Dumbledore rose up to his full height and bore down on Fudge. "Voldemort is back, Cornelius, and you must accept it. He will begin a reign of terror soon unless we do something to stop him. You need to listen to me, Cornelius. I suggest that you take my advice. I know what to do."

"That's enough!" Fudge blustered. "Dumbledore- I will not stand for this behavior. You may delude yourself into thinking that You-Know-Who is back, but in the _correct_ opinion of the Ministry of Magic, You-Know-Who died thirteen years ago!"

"Cornelius! You cannot possibly-"

"Your behavior will have consequences, Dumbledore! I refuse to listen to you any further. Good day." Fudge turned to leave, but then he stopped by Harry's bed and produced two bags from his robes.

"Your winnings," he said shortly. "Five hundred galleons for you, and five hundred for Mr. Diggory when he is well again." He dropped the two bags at Harry's side, put on his bowler hat, and stormed out.

As soon as Fudge left, McGonagall turned on Dumbledore. "Albus! Are you just going to let him leave?!"

"It is no use, Minerva. That man is so set in his beliefs that he will recoil at the slightest contradiction, and nothing that I say will change his mind."

"Sir? What are we going to do?" Harry asked.

"Patience, Harry. First of all- Ah, pardon my forgetfulness, Sirius." Dumbledore reached out with his wand and tapped the empty air next to him. Sirius shimmered back into existence.

Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. "Minerva, could you fetch the Weasleys? I believe that they have been champing at the bit to see Harry for hours now. They can visit him now."

Minerva nodded and left wordlessly.

Madam Pomfrey, who had been silent during the entire exchange with Fudge, spoke up. "Albus- Is Voldemort really back? For real?"

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I am afraid so, Poppy."

Madam Pomfrey, like Fudge, paled as a look of real terror came over her face, before drawing herself up again. But unlike Fudge, she did not protest Dumbledore's conclusions.

"Well," she said firmly, "If we beat him once, we can beat him again!"

"That's the spirit," Sirius said amusedly.

Madam Pomfrey didn't seem fazed as she took notice of Sirius for the first time. "Sirius Black!" she exclaimed, rushing over. "Why, you're as skinny as a rail. Have you been eating at _all_?"

"I've been eating what I can get," Sirius muttered bashfully.

"Well, it's clearly not enough! I should give you some nutrient potions, or perhaps-"

"Poppy, if you would excuse yourself? I have to have a word with Harry and Sirius in private." Dumbledore cut in.

"Of course, Albus." Madam Pomfrey headed back into her office, leaving Harry, Dumbledore, and Sirius alone in the hospital wing.

"Harry, I know that what you went through in the graveyard was absolutely traumatic. Do you need to talk about anything?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, I think I'm fine," Harry decided.

"Good, then. Now," Dumbledore began, a twinkle in his eyes, "I believe that since Mr. Diggory has been eavesdropping on our entire conversation, I shall ask him if needs to talk about anything as well."

Cedric shot up from his bed. "How did you know I was awake, sir?!"

"When one is asleep, Mr. Diggory, they do not tense up every time the word 'Voldemort' is said."

Cedric reddened. "Oh. Guilty."

"Is there anything you would like to say, then?" Dumbledore queried.

"Yes. One thing."

"Ask away, Mr. Diggory."

"Why is Sirius Black sitting next to you, and why are you so calm about it?"

"It is a long story, but all that you need to know right now is that Sirius was wrongfully accused and in fact, innocent," Dumbledore explained.

Cedric blinked. "Right. Okay."

Harry cut in. "Cedric- I have to ask you, how did you survive? I know I saw you get hit with the Killing Curse."

Dumbledore leaned closer, listening intently for Cedric's answer.

Cedric grinned slightly. "Do you know what happened? Pettigrew missed me with his killing curse. It's as simple as that. The curse passed right through my robes. Burned a hole. Look, here it is." Cedric poked a finger through a small, neatly singed hole in his robes.

Dumbledore nodded. "I see. But then what did you do?"

Cedric's grin faded. "I dropped my wand, and I couldn't find it, so I had to play dead while I looked for my wand, and by the time I found my wand, V-Voldemort was restored. I hid in the woods and created a Stormbringer Curse."

Sirius and Dumbledore's eyebrows both shot up.

"The Stormbringer Curse?!" Sirius exclaimed. "Nobody in my seventh year could cast that. In fact, there's only nine wizards in the last two hundred years who could cast that- make that ten now. It's an extremely complicated and volatile piece of magic."

Cedric ducked his head. "Yeah, I kind of have a thing for volatile and complicated magic. There's a reason why I was the Hogwarts champion."

Dumbledore pushed his eyeglasses up. "Mr. Diggory," he said, leaning back, "The Stormbringer curse is an exceedingly rare feat of magic. Only the most talented of wizards even have the capacity to cast it. Wizards with your prowess would be valuable."

"Valuable for what?"

"Voldemort is back, Mr. Diggory. We need to be proactive in resistance. Every able wand needs to take up the fight against him."

"Well, _of course_ I'm going to fight him. It's not like I wouldn't."

"I mean a little more than that, Mr. Diggory."

"What, then?" Cedric asked.

"Mr. Diggory, I would like to ask you to join the Order of the Phoenix."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, Cedric blinked, Dumbledore looked at Cedric expectantly, and Harry wondered what on earth the Order of the Phoenix was.

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't know what you're talking about," Cedric said.

Dumbledore smiled. "I thought so. I believe a history lesson is in order. Cedric, do you have any memories at all of the first war with Voldemort?"

Cedric furrowed his brow in concentration for a few seconds before shaking his head. "No, I don't think so."

Dumbledore nodded. "That's fine. I will tell you. Seventeen years ago," he began, "During the height of the war with Voldemort, I formed a group composed of above-average wizards, called the Order of the Phoenix, named after, as you might be able to guess, my familiar, Fawkes. Our goal was to present an alternative united front against Voldemort."

"We were a damn sight better than the Ministry, too," Sirius cut in.

Dumbledore continued without acknowledging Sirius' interjection. "And since Voldemort is back, I am resurrecting the Order. And, Mr. Diggory, we are always on the lookout for another member."

"Of course I'll join," Cedric said eagerly. "How could I not?"

"Wonderful, Mr. Diggory. We'll discuss it further at a later time."

Cedric nodded. "Sure."

From outside the hospital wing, a group of voices slowly grew louder and closer.

"That would be the Weaseleys. Sirius-"

But Sirius had already transformed back into the black dog, as the door opened, and Professor McGonagall came in, followed by Molly Weaseley, Hermione, Ron, and Bill. Madam Pomfrey poked her head out of her office upon hearing the noise, but upon seeing Cedric, hurried over to him.

"Harry!" Molly half-shrieked, half-cried, running over to his bed. "You're okay!" She bent down and enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug.

Harry returned the hug. "Thanks, Mrs. Weaseley."

Molly moved back to let Ron and Hermione move up.

"Harry, mate," Ron said. "You won. Unbelievable. And I'm really sorry that I ever doubted you."

"It's okay, Ron," Harry said. "Thanks." Harry secretly relaxed with relief at his best friend's contriteness. There was no sign of the jealousy from the start of the tournament.

Hermione said nothing, but embraced Harry in a hug that was even tighter and longer than Molly's, and Harry could almost feel the emotions flowing off of her. As Hermione straightened up again, she caught sight of the black dog. Her eyes widened as she glanced at Harry. _Is that-?_

Harry nodded, affirming that it was Sirius.

"Harry-" Molly began, but Dumbledore abruptly held up a hand for quiet.

"Harry has had a long night, and is still recovering from his injuries. Now that you have seen that he is alive and well, I am going to have to ask you to leave him to be for another day."

"But-" Molly said helplessly.

"I am afraid that I will have to stand firm with my decision. Harry needs his rest," Dumbledore said, with finality.

"But-" Hermione and Ron protested simultaneously.

Molly shook her head. "You heard the Headmaster! He needs his rest! Come along now," she said, putting an arm around Ron and Hermione and guiding them towards the door, with Bill following behind.

As soon as they had left, Sirius transformed back into his human form. "Albus, what gives? Harry's perfectly fine."

Dumbledore's face seemed sunken with something that Harry couldn't identify- grief? Regret? Sadness? Whatever it was, it was affecting him.

"Sirius, the reason that I asked Miss Granger and the Weaseleys to leave was because there is something of great magnitude that I have to tell Harry about," Dumbledore explained.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore cast a quick privacy ward around him, Harry, and Sirius before speaking. "Harry, fourteen and a half years ago-" He seemed to fight a brief internal battle with himself before continuing on resolutely, "-Fourteen and a half years ago, before you were born, I was interviewing Sybill Trelawney for the position of Divination professor at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded, not seeing where the headmaster was headed. "Okay…"

"During the process of the interview, Professor Trelawney gave a prophecy."

"A prophecy?"

"Yes, a prophecy. In fact, I can- Fawkes?" Dumbledore held out his hand, and a second later, his brilliant red phoenix appeared in a plume of fire. "Fawkes, can you-" Dumbledore whispered something unintelligible into the phoenix's ear, and with a slight nod, Fawkes flamed out.

"A prophecy, Albus?" Sirius asked.

"You will see soon," Dumbledore said.

Fawkes flamed back in, this time carrying a small glass orb.

"Thank you, Fawkes," Dumbledore said, taking the orb. Fawkes let out a trill and flamed out again. Dumbledore turned his attention to the orb and tapped it with his wand. A silvery mist floated out from it, and a spinning figure rose from within- Professor Trelawney, reciting something.

**_THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES... BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES... AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT... AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES... THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES._**

The floating figure of Trelawney sank back into the orb as the prophecy ended. Harry stared at the orb. "Sir, why are you telling me this?"

Dumbledore appeared to steel himself before continuing. "Harry, I have reason to believe that this prophecy is about you."

Dead silence met this utterance as Harry stared at the Headmaster in shock. Sirius' expression mirrored Harry's.

"Explain, Albus," Sirius said finally.

"The Dark Lord mentioned in the prophecy is obviously Voldemort. Harry, your parents fought Voldemort three separate times before you were born, each time resulting in a draw. You were born on the thirty-first of July, or 'as the seventh month dies.' And Voldemort went after you when you were a year old, giving you that scar after the killing curse rebounded off you and hit him. Thus, he marked you as his equal."

Harry blinked. "That- that makes sense, sir, but what about the rest of the prophecy? What power could I possibly have that Voldemort doesn't?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I am not sure, Harry. Prophecies are extremely hard to decipher and can be fulfilled in unexpected ways. Don't let this worry you."

"But why- why are you telling me this?"

The sorrowful look that had been on Dumbledore's face earlier returned. "Harry, my experiences with you, watching you grow up, your relationship with me… they almost entirely mirror my experiences with another boy like you. I withheld valuable information from him, information that he later found out himself. And he never forgave me for withholding that information. I learned from my mistakes once, and I refuse to make the same errors twice. With Voldemort returned, it is best for both of us if you know this prophecy."

"Who was the other-?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "That, I cannot tell you right now, Harry. It is still too painful. I can't bear to think of it."

"Okay," Harry said. Grappling for a change of subject, he brought up, "Does Voldemort know about the prophecy?"

Looking grateful at the change of subject, Dumbledore replied, "Actually, he only knows part of it. But Voldemort's first order of business upon returning would be almost certainly to hear the rest of the prophecy…" He trailed off, staring contemplatively into space. Abruptly, he stood up.

"That reminds me that I have important business to attend to. We will talk again soon, Harry. And Sirius, I have an errand for you. Go out and notify the old crowd- Mundungus, Arabella, Remus, and all the others- and tell them that it's time to bring The Order back together."

Sirius nodded. "Can do, Albus."

"Good." With a nod, Dumbledore left the hospital wing, taking down the privacy wards as he left, leaving Harry and Sirius alone.

"I don't think I've ever seen the headmaster so distraught," Sirius remarked. "He must have really screwed up with that other kid that he mentioned, if he's so anxious not to let that happen to you."

"What do you think the 'power that the Dark Lord knows not' is?" Harry wondered.

"I don't know. It could be anything," Sirius said with a sigh. "Don't let it bother you, though. I'm sure you'll find out when the time is right. Like Albus said, don't worry about this. If you want to talk about it, send me an owl. But I have to leave now. I'll see you again."

"Bye, Sirius," Harry said.

"Bye, Harry," Sirius said, standing up. He lifted his hood over his face and pulled out a small pocket watch. He whispered a phrase, and the watch briefly glowed blue before disappearing, taking Sirius along.

**A/N: There you are. Chapter three should be coming soon, hopefully. Please review! Thank you. Air Force Muffin out.**


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